I think that I’ve spent enough time over the years just thinking about us, what we were and weren’t to one another, to move on. I’ve said this before, and I’ll probably retract and then say it again, but I’m letting go. In order to do that, though, I think that I need to let it all out – everything that I would’ve said to you, had you let me speak. Your indifference still pains me, and with that, I’m too much of a coward to mail this to you, to try to reach you again. Still, I need to write this, even if it’s just for myself.

First off, I apologize for the situation. I know that probably means nothing to you, especially now that so many years have gone by. The reason that I didn’t explain things right then and there, frankly, was because you were my only friend. I was going through a difficult time, and you thought the world of me. I didn’t want you to discover the lie, that the girl you put up on that pedestal wasn’t me at all. You were a rock in my life when everything else was falling apart around me. I had problems at school and problems with family, and hanging out with you was a peaceful part of my day. I didn’t want to ruin your idea of me – carefree, strong, fun-loving, even if it was a lie. Even at that age, though, I thought that we’d in one another’s lives forever. I guess that I was being naive when I thought that.

I hadn’t expected things to turn out this way. I had been hoping that you wouldn’t ever find out what a loser I was, but the day finally came when you did. And I know that you were hurt that I never told you about the situation at school, especially about him, but you never tried talking to me about it. I supppose that I betrayed you, by keeping that part of me secret from you, but I had hoped that eventually you would want to talk to me about it. I tried so hard to reach you, but you became somewhat an asshole. You didn’t even try to hear my side of the story. By then, I had other friends, thankfully. Still, it hurt when you befriended the people that helped make my life a mess. My oldest friend – you ridiculed me, made me feel like shit. A few years in, I thought that I surely was in love with you, as ridiculous as that seems now. No matter how bad you treated me, I wanted to be someone in your eyes again.

They say that the opposite of love isn’t hate, it’s difference. It’s true. I’ve wronged you. I know that I have. I know that I’m on the defensive in this letter, but you never gave me that opportunity – you just brushed me away.

Sometimes I think it’s funny how I spent years thinking about you, not him. I haven’t thought about him so much, I suppose, because he and I were a closed book. You and I never reached a definitive end.

I’ve tried to reach you before – but you always run away from me. So many years have passed, I’m not sure that it matters. I catch a glimpse of you every now and then, and I still look at your house when I have to go by it. Sometimes I’m full of anger. Sometimes I get nostalgic. Sometimes I don’t care.

A huge part of me has already let you go, but with such an emotional connection burned into neural pathways, you are always the person I fall back into thinking about. You are my zero. I wish that I could hate you – and sometimes I think that I do – but I’m mostly at peace with you lately. Time heals all wounds. I hope that your wounds have healed by now, too.